I was happy that George woke early--5:30AM--so that I was able to get him out for his pee and poop walk before the storm moved in. I heard the first distant rumbles, out over the ocean, then, as I sat and meditated, moving gradually closer. By the time I was done, at 6:15, the rain was pelting down and the thunder announcing its proximity with a sharp crack before the rumble. I went upstairs, where the entire fourth wall of our living area is an expanse of glass, and looked out over the Los Angeles basin to watch the storm's approach. A dark bank of clouds marked the leading edge, drifting back like a horizontal curtain to reveal the open sky...
This was a drama Ellie shouldn't miss, so I went downstairs to find her waking, groggily, and urged her to come up and watch with me. By now, the thunder was deafening when it struck, and the lightning followed behind it, some coming in sheets of light that illuminated the entire back drop; some in straight-down strikes that flashed through the sky and hit the valley floor in a show of theatrical splendor.
The rain was intense by now, and gusts of win threatened to loft our furled sun umbrellas from their heavy bases. For a brief while, small hailstones pounded off the surface of the deck as the storm passed directly overhead, and we heard the thunder moving off toward the east.
As I write this post, the rain persists, but lighter now, and the dawn brings with it a break in the storm. The sky begins to clear out over the Pacific Ocean. And soon, I suspect, we shall be back to the usual Southern California sunshine.